Milton had been walking home by hisself after gambling with a few of his buddies when some unknown thugs chased and jumped him. The beating had been so brutal, he hadn’t been able to make it all the way home. So, he’d flung open Odell’s gate and run up on his front porch. He had laid there for quite a while before Odell eventually found him and brung him home for me to bandage him up.

“I bet him and Joyce sitting at their fancy kitchen table right now eating a breakfast fit for a king, like they ain’t got a care in the world,” Milton said.

“Pffft. With all that fancy furniture in their house, the money the store pulls in, a car, and everything else they got, they ain’t got no reason to have a care in the world.” My voice sounded so detached, you would have thought it was coming from another woman. We got quiet and stayed that way until we made it to the bus stop a couple of minutes later.

The bus was running late, so I started up the conversation again. “Milton, if Joyce and Odell don’t come to the house this evening, should we go visit them and let them know we got out of jail?”

“If they don’t already know, they’ll probably know by the time we get off work. But today is Friday, so we know Odell won’t be coming because he’ll be leaving right after he closes the store to go ‘visit his sick daddy’ again.” We laughed.

“Well, maybe Joyce will come.”

“If she do, don’t you say nothing about the money we plan on asking Odell for.” Milton cleared his throat and went on. “Um, baby, I been thinking. Maybe I should go up to Odell by myself.”

“Why? I thought you wanted us to approach him together.”

“I did. But the more I think about it, the more I think this should be between us men. If Joyce ain’t going to be there, having you present might make Odell uncomfortable. Baby, you know as well as I do that this is a man’s world. Men take care of the business, women take care of the housekeeping and babies. That’s just the way things is.”

“No, that’s just a bunch of happy horse manure.” I stamped my foot and punched Milton’s arm.

“Oww! What you do that for? You know I’m still recovering from my injuries.”

“If you don’t stop talking crazy, you’ll be recovering from some more injuries,” I warned. “And being de-balled will be one.”

“What did I say that’s got you so fired up?” he grumbled, rubbing the spot where I had punched him.